Tekken Chronicles
by kyoraku08
Summary: Tekken is a world famous franchise, but do we really know the story told in all the games? Has the story of Tekken ever been told from start to finish? Let's try it then! This story will follow each and every character of Tekken and each of their adventures throughout all the Tekken tournaments. From Tekken 1 to Tekken-Whatever-Number-It-Ends-Up-On-Ending. Enjoy!


**Author's Note:** So here's a new side-project of mine which I'll do from time to time, just to take a breather out of Bleach: The 3rd Phantom... Similarly to that fanfic, this will be based on a video game, this time the Tekken series. Tekken has a massively rich storyline, but there's no way to follow it continuously as what he learn is through the various character cutscenes and many of them are just what-ifs. Here I'll try to depict it as a story as we would watch on an anime series or read on manga. I'll also try to make everything fit, including those what-if scenarios, the Tekken Tag games, modes like Devil Within and even the anime movies. Let's see if I can make it work as well as The 3rd Phantom...

I don't own Tekken, it is owned by Namco.

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><p><strong>Tekken: Chronicles<strong>

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><p><em>Since the beginning of history, people have fought in the name of God. Bending to the inventive demands of their fickle deity and screaming for righteousness, they wantonly spill the blood of their enemies... as well as their own. The purpose behind this bloodshed, however, goes beyond simple explanations of religion or notions of justice. The truth is buried deep within those who wage the wars. Since the birth of this planet, a memory has been deeply engraved onto the genes of all living things. A memory of aggression, as a means of survival. A memory of fighting.<em>

_Humans seek to defend their actions in the name of truth. The act of fighting is itself a true act. Without this truth, the fighter will perish. To learn the way, ask your own flesh and blood, because once flesh is the door to the truth to master the way, you can ask your own Ken (or fist)... because complete knowledge of one's flesh, blood and fist is what creates one's Tekken (or Iron Fist)! And Tekken is the key to life!_

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><p><strong>Saga of the King of the Iron Fist Tournament<strong>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

**Challenge! Become the King of Iron Fist**

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><p><strong>1973, in Japan...<strong>

"Why are you wasting your time here?" A tall man demanded to know, as he lifted his son by the collar of his gi. The man had a mustache, hazel eyes and most of his head was bald, except for two streaks of hair, one in each side of the head, which pointed up and outwards in each direction. He wore dark blue hakama pants and a grey kosode shirt. He wasn't happy at all by finding his son kneeling in front of his mother's grave. "You have better things to be doing. You are weak!"

"What's wrong with coming here to see mom?" The small, 5-year old boy fired back. He had short black hair, thick eyebrows, brown eyes and wore a simple dark grey gi. He also carried a golden pendant around his neck. His short size, along with his father's monstrous strength, resulted in Kazuya being lifted from the ground with just one hand. "I'm not weak!"

"Why are you still wearing this idiotic trinket?" The man picked the pendant with his free hand and ripped it away from his son's neck. "We'll get rid of it..."

"NOOOOOO!" The boy, with tears already forming in his eyes, watched helplessly as his father threw away the memento he kept from his mother. "What are you doing?!"

"No son of mine will be this weak. I'll make sure of it." The man started to walk away, while he carried his son on his right shoulder. The boy kept punching his father's back but to no effect.

"Put me down! Let me go!" The young child kept on screaming, while his father started to climb his away into the top of the nearby hill. The man continued to walk in silence, completely ignoring his son's demands. "LET ME GO!"

"Lions push their cubs over a cliff and raise only the ones that climb back up." The man finally spoke, as soon as he reached the top of the cliff, causing his son's eyes to widen in fear. The man extended his arm forward, positioning his son in a way that he would surely fall into the ravine if he dropped him.

"D-Dad! Please, don't..." The scared little boy pleaded to his father. "You can't do this to me!"

"If you're really my son, then you'll be able to climb back up." The man answered with indifference, before stretching his arm a little further.

"P-Please! Please, don't... PLEASE, DON'T DO IT!" The boy continued to plead, but his father swung his arm and launched his son away into the air. Helpless, the boy fell down into his doom. "NOOOOOOOOOO!"

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><p><strong>21 years later; 1994, in Japan...<strong>

"Speak, Lee..." The man who once threw his own son of the top of a cliff, spoke without opening his eyes. He had been meditating, seated on the floor with both legs crossed and surrounded by four statues of demons, each carrying a candle. He had felt a presence behind him and instantly recognized the person as being Lee Chaolan, the son he had adopted soon after his heinous act towards his own flesh and blood.

"It seems he won another fighting tournament. Impressive, considering he had just returned to Japan two days ago..." Lee gave his report to his adoptive father. He had distinctive silver hair, which covered most of the top part of his head, and brown eyes. His outfit consisted of a black tuxedo with a rose in the left chest pocket, a white inner dress shirt, black leather loafers and a black bow tie. "It seems that draw in the finals of his last tournament in the United States didn't affect him and he's back to his winning ways. Excellent record nonetheless, with countless victories and just one draw..."

"Is that so? Very well... I guess it's time." The man suddenly got back into his feet and turned to face Lee, who seemed surprised by this reaction. "It's time to host the first ever King of the Iron Fist Tournament."

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><p><strong>A week later...<strong>

**_Flashback_**

_"I... I can't die... Not yet! I have... to kill him for what he did!" The small boy crawled his way into a more stable rock platform. He was covered in his own blood and while he rested on that platform, a blood pool quickly formed under him, the result of a massive cut he had on his chest. "I have to... kill my father..."_

_"That is true. You must not die." A voice ringed in the boy's head and a glowing light appeared in front of him, causing him to wonder if he was hallucinating. His vision started to blur though, as he was about to lose consciousness. Nonetheless, the light blue glow was changing into a dark purple one. "You must live to witness the culmination of our fate."_

**_End of Flashback_**

"Huh?! It's that dream again..." The boy, now a 26-year old man, suddenly sat up as he awoke from his dream. His hair was now a bit longer and pointing up and backwards. He brought his hand to his chest, as his scar was burning him once again and his body was covered in sweat. "Something dark is growing inside of me. A sinister feeling is urging and clawing to get out... What is this feeling? What is it?!"

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><p><strong>At the same time, in Los Angeles, California, USA...<strong>

_"It has been a while since I've entered in the neighborhood..." _A biker clad in a black leather jumpsuit with a flaming skull design on the back and flame designs on both sides of his pants, black fingerless gloves, black shades and boots thought to himself, while he parked his motorcycle. The said neighborhood was Chinatown, as seen by the many signs placed on each shop and restaurant on the street he found himself in. The biker had blonde hair in a tall flat top style, which obviously ended up calling for the attention of the people passing by. The tall man walked towards his destination, one of the many restaurants in the area.

"Man, the business is going from bad to worse..." The restaurant owner said to himself, while he went through the numerous bills he still had to pay to suppliers. He was wearing a black and yellow jumpsuit, as it was still quite early to open the restaurant. His eyes were brown with a soft tint of green and his black hair was disposed in a bowl-like hairstyle.

"Daddy! Daddy!" His son barged into the restaurant from the front door. He was just like a miniature version of his father, but wore yellow pants and a white tank top. "A customer just arrived and wants to enter!"

"A customer?! But we're still closed, Forest!" The man reminded his son, before thinking twice about it. _"On second thought, I should capitalize on every possible customer if I want to make enough money to pay for all these bills..."_

"Can't you make an exception for an old friend, huh Law?" The biker entered in the restaurant, causing Law's eyes and mouth to widen.

"You... Paul Phoenix?! Is that really you?!" Law questioned the biker, who took off his sunglasses, revealing his blue eyes.

"Marshall Law, you no good son of a bitch!" Paul greeted his long time friend, before both barged at each other, aiming their right fists against one another. The fists clashed and the young Forest could swear he had just felt a second-long earthquake. After standing still for a few moments, both Paul and Law hugged each other, laughing like crazy. "Long time no see, pal!"

"A long time indeed! Please, sit!" Law motioned towards a nearby chair and moved behind the counter, while Paul took a seat. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

"I would have a pizza, but I think you don't have that here, so... I guess I'll just have a good ol' beer." Paul asked, causing Law to laugh, something the latter hadn't been able to do lately. "As cold as you can get!"

"Do you know him, daddy?" The curious Forest asked.

"Perhaps even better than I know myself." Law answered, while he gave Paul his beer. "Go tell your mother to do something quick to eat."

"Sure." Forest bowed his head to both adults, before going into the kitchen to meet his mother.

"Cute kid. How old is he already?" Paul questioned, before tasting the beer.

"Four, already. Time sure moves fast, doesn't it?" Law said, before chuckling. "So what have you been up to lately?"

"I've been working as a bodyguard here and there. When there's no work, I get some money from street fights or local fighting tournaments." Paul told Law, with the latter nodding in thought.

_"Perhaps I should start doing the same..." _The restaurant owner thought in silence, while he suppressed a sigh.

"Other than that, it's been the same old life, me and my girl." Paul continued to speak, referring to his motorcycle as 'his girl'. All of a sudden though, his expression darkened considerably. "That his... until this last month."

"What happened?" Law asked, but someone knocked on the front door before Paul could continue. "Yes? We're closed, you know?"

"Postman. I have a registered letter for Mr. Marshall Law." A man spoke from behind the door, causing Law's to roll his eyes.

"Great, another bill I bet... Excuse me for just a moment." Law said to Paul, while he went to the door. After a minute or so, Law returned with an envelope in his hand. "I'm even afraid to open it."

"Don't be. It's not something for you to pay." Paul told him, while he retrieved an envelope from one of his pockets that looked exactly the same. "I got mine already."

"What?!" The surprised Law exclaimed, before his eyes narrowed. "What brings you here, Paul? What is this?"

"Open it and you'll see." Paul said, before he finished his beer. Law quickly opened the envelope and retrieved what seemed to be a ticket. The bigger letters immediately caught his attention.

"King of the Iron Fist Tournament? What does this mean?" The confused Law stared from the ticket to Paul and back to the ticket. "I haven't participated in competitions in a long time. Who would invite me all of a sudden?"

"Just read who's the sponsor." Paul suggested, to which Law complied.

"Mishima Zaibatsu..." Law read the name of the sponsor, before raising his eyebrows. "That name sounds familiar."

"Of course. Not only is it a giant multinational conglomerate, but it's owner is Heihachi Mishima, the father of a common friend of ours." Paul explained, before closing both hands together and resting them in front of his mouth, with his elbows on the table. "Does Lee Chaolan ring a bell?"

"Lee?! Of course it does! He studied martial arts alongside with us!" Law stated, causing Paul to nod twice. "I remember now. Mishima Zaibatsu... Lee first came into the U.S. to take care of the Mishima Zaibatsu's operations here and to continue his business education."

"Yes and now that same company is apparently hosting a martial arts tournament, to which we both received invitations. Not only that..." Paul sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his head for a moment. "Besides you and Lee who know me better than anyone, have you ever seen anyone else defeat me in a fight?"

"Nope, never..." Law confirmed that statement.

"Yeah... I didn't lose to anyone else, but some weeks ago I was part of a tournament a little bigger than usual. The guy I fought in the final... He managed to fight me to a draw. A draw... and still today I think I was lucky." Paul revealed, causing great shock to spread across Law's face. "His name was... Kazuya Mishima."

"Kazuya... Mishima?! You don't mean...?!" Law mumbled.

"Given his age, I would say he would be Heihachi's son, which is strange considering that Heihachi had no offsprings when he adopted Lee. It could be that he was using a false name, but then... this appeared." Paul showed Law the envelope once again. "Mishima Zaibatsu was obviously watching that tournament and so they watched me, hence why I was invited. Your invitation could be either because Lee moved a few strings or because they have been watching fighting tournaments here in the U.S. for a long time in preparation for this tournament and so... they knew of us for quite a while."

"It says here this will be the biggest fighting tournament ever created... so yeah, that may be correct." Law agreed.

"Which means, he'll be there as well..." Paul suddenly punched the table and let out a dangerous grin. "I've always tried to be the best of best. I've always searched for the perfect opponent. He might be that person... and I'm going to that tournament to eliminate any possible comparisons between us."

"Most likely, that tournament will be filled with all sorts of strong guys... if you go there, you may find very strong opponents that could match you." Law once again agreed, before he sighed. "However, this is not for me. I have to take care of the restaurant more than ever. I can't afford to close it to go on a silly tournament. Time is money, as they say."

"The details are on the back of the ticket. Have you seen the prize already?" Paul asked, causing Law's eyes to widen.

"Prize?! What prize?!" Law questioned, before turning the ticket around. Seeing the numbers of the prize money, dollar symbols appeared where Law's eyes used to be. "I'm going!"

* * *

><p><strong>Back in Japan...<strong>

"Look at that guy!" A bald man pointed towards the television on the corner of the bar. On the screen, a tall and fat man wearing a suit appeared in the middle of a casino, laughing and drinking sake from a small cup. The image then shifted to a famous couple who had also attended the same place the night before. "Wasn't that Ganryu? The guy who used to be a world famous sumo wrestler?"

"Yeah, I think so. He was the youngest ever to gain the Ozeki rank. I really thought he would challenge for the title of Yokozuna one day. He had everything to win it one day." The bald man's friend, a man with long black hair, gave his opinion. "Why did he retire again?"

"He didn't retire! He was disohorably discharged and forbidden to ever again perform on a professional level." The bald man reminded his friend. "It's his fault really for getting all cocky and showing an immoral style with all that fire breathing before the bouts and all the fanfare and taunting of his opponents... I can't understand how a guy who has the chance to reach greatness like he had screws all up because he can't stay humble."

"Well, I kinda enjoyed that... it was entertaining." The long-haired man stated.

"Rumor has it that he has joined the crime world by participating in illegal gaming houses and doing some very shady business transactions. How do you think he affords all those luxuries now that he doesn't fight anymore?" The bartender eventually participated in the discussion as well. "There was also the rumor he was involved with the Yakuza."

Next to the two men was another one who silently listened to the conversation, while he drank his sake. He had a dirty brown cloak covering his body and a straw samurai hat covering most of his face. The stranger finished his drink and left the bar. As soon as he stepped outside, half a dozen people stepped in front of him from out of nowhere, before kneeling towards him. Each and everyone of them was wearing a cloak similar to the one used by the man who had just walked out of the bar and all of them shared the same hat.

"Yoshimitsu-dono." One of the men called for their master and handed an envelope to him. "This was left near our current base."

"Have we been found?" The man called Yoshimitsu questioned his subordinate, while he opened the envelope with a ninja dagger.

"It seems like it, sir." The same subordinate answered.

"Proceed to the evacuation to our farthest hideout and burn the current one to the ground. We have to ensure the Manji Clan isn't dismantled." Yoshimitsu ordered, before all of his subordinates, except for the one that was speaking, vanished in thin air. The leader of the Manji Clan read both sides of the ticket he took out of the envelope, before looking over his shoulder and in the direction of the bar. "A fighting tournament invitation..."

"An invitation? How is that possible?!" The surprised subordinate asked. "I don't know who's the host, but how did he find about us and especially... about you?!"

"It seems we have a new enemy... We have to be careful with the Mishima Zaibatsu." Yoshimitsu stated, causing the subordinate to gasp, as he didn't expect the Mishima Zaibatsu to be the tournament's host. The clan leader looked once more to the bar and chuckled. "Still... if they invited me who am so obscure, I wonder what that makes of the more famous fighters..."

"What do you mean, sir?" The subordinate questioned his master.

"What I mean is that I'm going to participate in this tournament. Even if I don't win, I'll make sure I'll bring a prize money along with me to help our cause." Yoshimitsu answered, before both men disappeared in thin air.

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><p><strong>At the same time, in an underground gaming house...<strong>

"Ahahahah! Another victory for the great Ganryu-sama!" Ganryu laughed while he pulled the poker chips he had just won from the table and turned around to leave. His eyes were black, just like his hair which was styled in a traditional chonmage and he wore a white kimono with blue patterns. After a few steps, he reached the exchanging corner and placed all the chips in front of an old man. "Here it is! Another great night for Ganryu-sama! Show me the green ones!"

"Just a moment please." The old man retrieved the chips and started to count them. After a short while, he placed a considerable amount of banknotes in front of Ganryu, along with an envelope. "I was told to give you this as well."

"What is this?" Ganryu asked to himself more than to the man, while he opened the envelope. He retrieved the ticket and read what was on it. "King of the Iron Fist Tournament?"

"Weren't you banned from competing?" The old man ended up asking.

"From sumo wrestling professional competitions, yes... But this is being billed as the biggest martial arts tournament ever created." Ganryu explained, before a smirk appeared on his face. "I really wanted to become Yokozuna, but being considered the world's strongest man feels just as honorable."

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><p><strong>And while that happened...<strong>

"Mending air conditioners for a living... For how long do you plan to go on like that?" A man with short brown hair questioned his friend, who kept working on the machine in front of her. From where he was, he could only see her long red hair. "It's a shame you're not making use of your skills."

"Skills? I don't get what you're talking about... I'm quite skilled at what I do and that is working as a mechanic." She answered, while she searched for a screwdriver in her tool box.

"Yeah, alright... but I remember you being the fastest person I've ever seen. Plus, you had great skill with stealth knives. And not only that..." The man smirked, as he saw her stopping what she was doing. "You were once known as the 'Devil Cat', one of the greatest thieves ever... weren't you, Kunimitsu?"

"What do you want? If you have a new job for me, go ahead and tell me. If not, stop antagonizing me and leave." She demanded without even turning around to face him.

"Well, it's a job... Quite different from the petty thefts I usually have for you, but... well, just look at it." The man threw the envelope in his hand like a knife and Kunimitsu easily caught between two fingers, without ever turning around towards the man. "The King of the Iron Fist Tournament. The host is your target."

"A fighting tournament?! Mishima Zaibatsu?!" Kunimitsu finally turned around, visibly angry. "Are you insane? You want me to rob one of the biggest corporations in the whole world?!"

"Well, the guy who asked for you doesn't want anything from the Zaibatsu itself, just something they found a while back..." The man continued to explain. "Ever heard of the Native American treasure that some researchers from the Mishima Zaibatsu found out, some years ago?"

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><p><strong>At the same time, somewhere in Arizona, USA...<strong>

"Mom! Mom, look at this!" A girl with long brown hair tied into a braid and green-tinted brown eyes barged into the living room, showing her mother the ticket that had come with the letter she received earlier. The girl was wearing a grey sweater with a white shirt under it and long white pants. She also wore red socks, brown sneakers and a beautiful pendant she had received from her mother years back. "I've been invited into a huge tournament! The King of the Iron Fist Tournament! Talk about a late birthday gift!"

"Let me see it." The girl's mother seemed to share her excitement, but all of it vanished when she who was hosting the tournament. "Mishima... Zaibatsu..."

"What's wrong?" The girl asked, as she quickly got worried by her mother's reaction.

"Michelle, we have to talk... Please, sit." The woman asked her, with Michelle quickly complying. "It's about this company hosting the tournament... and about your father."

"Father? What did he have to do with this Mishima Zaibatsu?" The confused Michelle asked.

"I won't forbid you from participating. I was a fighter myself, so I know the feeling... But I want you to be ready for what you're about to face and, above all, to be very careful." Michelle's mother's words only seemed to increase her daughter's worry. "I met your father here in the United States, when he came here for an excavation. At the time, he was working for the Mishima Zaibatsu."

"Father worked for them?" The girl asked, with her mother nodding once to confirm it. Michelle knew that her father was a famous archaeologist and that sometimes his excavations were done for certain companies, but she never knew about his involvement with the Zaibatsu.

"Mostly for them. He was talented at what he did, so of course the biggest companies like the Mishima Zaibatsu were the ones who requested his work the most." The woman stated. "His first work here in the United States was for them... and so was his last."

"I see... but I don't get the point of this." Michelle said with a sigh. "What does that have to do with my participation in the tournament?"

"I have a confession to make you, Michelle." This time it was her mother who sighed and did so quite deeply. "Your father dying when a tomb collapsed... I'm sorry. I lied."

"What?!" The shocked Michelle nearly shouted and even got back on her feet without even noticing. "You lied about father's death?! Why did you do that?!"

"Because that's what is known all over the world through the news. That's what the Mishima Zaibatsu wanted the world to think. And I even would've preferred that way... but I can't hide it anymore now that you're participating in their event. I can't forbid your participation." Her mother looked away towards the window and let out another sigh. "It's better you know from me instead of learning by someone else there."

"But if they want the world to think that, how would I learn of it?" Michelle asked, just before she noticed something she had just said. "Wait a minute... Why would they want everyone to think that?"

"Because your father was killed by the owner of the Mishima Zaibatsu, Heihachi Mishima." Michelle's mother revealed, causing her daughter's eyes to widen. "His last work was a search for a Native American treasure. Your father found the treasure, but also found something about it that made him refuse to hand it away to the Mishima Zaibatsu. There was a scuffle and Heihachi killed him with his own hands."

"So that's why... But, how do you know about it then?" Michelle found a new question to make.

"The lie was created to keep the image of the Mishima Zaibatsu, but Heihachi still wanted the treasure, so... he himself came here to question me and to do that, he told me the truth. He wanted to know what your father had told me, but I know nothing about that treasure." Her mother continued the explanation. "He saw I was sincere in my words, so in the end he let it go, but he warned me... if I ever tried to tell the truth to the outside world, there would be consequences."

"That monster..." Michelle hissed, while she tightened her fists, but her mother quickly grabbed her by both wrists.

"Michelle, promise me you won't cross paths with Heihachi Mishima. Promise me you won't try to avenge your father." The woman asked to her daughter. "I'm worried enough already about his motives to invite you to this tournament. Don't make things worse. They're dangerous people, Michelle. Just compete and stay out of their way. And if they go after you... get away from them."

"Mother..." Michelle whispered, while the emotions she was feeling were all conflicting with one another.

* * *

><p><strong>Around the same time, in Mexico...<strong>

"Bless me father, for I have sinned..." A voice sounded throughout the church, causing its priest to open his eyes and stop his prayer. Having immediately recognized the voice, the tall and tanned priest quickly stood. "It has been... quite a while since my last confession."

"Quite a while indeed." The priest turned around to meet his visitor. His attire consisted of an armor and black jaguar mask with long teeth. The armor consisted of a black body part, black shoulder pads with a sting on them, a pair of white arm protections with stings, and white metallic shin-pads and foot protections. He also wore black trousers, black gloves with nine white rivets, and seemed to wear a suit with long sleeves under the armor. A tail protruded from the back of his pants, also dark in color. "I believe you won't be making one this time either. Am I right... Armor King?"

"Indeed you are... father." Armor King confirmed the priest's suspicions, while purposedly delaying the last word.

"So... what brings a famous pro wrestler like you to this humble house of the Lord?" The priest questioned the man in front of him.

"I heard something about the orphanage you're running. Rumor has it that it's about to close due to the lack of funds... Is it true?" Armor King asked, causing the priest's eyes to widen.

"How do you know that?" The priest demanded to know, while his eyes narrowed, but Armor King simply shrugged.

"The better question is... what do you plan to do about it?" Armor King countered, causing the priest to stare down. He had been praying for the safety of the orphanage and of the children who lived in there. "Wrestling isn't well-payed here in Mexico. I say that as a professional of the business, so... do you really expect to save the orphanage by continuing to wrestle in gyms and local carnivals?"

"So that's how you know..." The priest realized, before he sighed. "What else do you expect me to do? I don't have any other choice but to fight in local independent promotions, since I don't have a contract like you do with CMLL."

"Then it's about time to step it up." Armor King told him, before he handed him an envelope. "Here's your opportunity to save the orphanage."

"What is this?" The confused priest asked, before he opened the envelope and retrieved his invitation to the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. "Wait... How?! How is it possible that they have invited me?"

"It seems this Mishima Zaibatsu has done what CMLL and UWA have failed to do, which is notice your talent." Armor King stated, while he pointed a finger in the priest's direction.

"But this is a martial arts tournament! Wrestling is one thing, but this..." The priest stared down to the invitation and bit his lower lip. "This is fighting. I promised I would stop fighting... I owe it to the Marquez priests to..."

"You're right. You owe them, so that's why you should go." Armor King took a few steps forward and rested his right hand on the priest's left shoulder. "You're not a street fighter anymore. You're a wrestler and the main reason you are one is to help children who don't have a place to stay in this world... just like you didn't have back then."

"You..." The priest tried to say something, but the truth was that Armor King had left him speechless.

"Pick up your mask and get ready for this tournament. I'll be there as well..." Armor King revealed, startling the priest. "I want to see the true strength of your will, so don't disappoint me... King."

* * *

><p><strong>In England...<strong>

"Come in." A man in a suit allowed the person who knocked on the door to enter, while he remained seated behind his desk. A blonde woman, with blue eyes and her disposed in a ponytail, entered in the room. She wore a black crop top with black sleeves that had yellow patterns on them, black three quarter length trousers with vertical yellow oval patterns down the outside of her legs and black and white shoes. She also wore blue earrings and a blue hairband. Her nails and lipstick were red. "Ah, Nina Williams! Welcome back. How did the mission go?"

"The target has been eliminated." She coldly answered, before placing both hands on the opposite edges of the man's desk. She seemed to be quite annoyed, though. "The intel was wrong, though. There were cops everywhere. It makes me wonder... Are you suits trying to get rid of me?"

"Rid of you? Nonsense! You're our most talented assassin. The proof is just here." The man waved his hands, trying to excuse himself. "I'll believe you when you say the intel was wrong, but if it really was and you still succeeded on your mission, that just shows your talent. Getting rid of you would only be detrimental for our organization."

"I think you're just kissing up to me so I let you off the hook..." Nina narrowed her eyes, causing the man to sweat a little more for a while. "Oh well, I'll let it pass this one time..."

_"So scary..."_ The man took a handkerchief and quickly wiped the sweat of his face. "There's a new mission for you."

"So soon?" Nina raised an eyebrow, but quietly watched the man picking up some files.

"Here's an invitation for the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. You'll participate in the tournament as a regular competitor, until you have the chance to infiltrate the host's headquarters and kill your target." The man spoke while Nina read through the files. "There's a picture of him in there. Not that it's needed, though... everyone knows who he is."

"Heihachi Mishima?! You want me to kill the Mishima Zaibatsu's owner?" The susprised Nina questioned the man, before she realized something. "Wait just a second... Wasn't the invitation sent by the Mishima Zaibatsu itself?"

"It seems someone within the Mishima Zaibatsu would greatly benefit from Heihachi's death." The man guessed more than he assured, before he crossed both hands together and rested his jaw on them. "Whatever the case is, you only need to worry about eliminating Heihachi Mishima. That's your mission. Whatever the consequences that death brings to the Mishima Zaibatsu are don't matter to us."

"Very well." Nina nodded, before she walked away from the room. Downstairs, on the floor below, a brunette woman chuckled. She had been hearing to the entire conversation thanks to a spy listening device. The woman had black hair by jaw length and blue eyes. She wore a low backed, strapless, blue satin dress. The skirt portion reached to her ankle and a slit ran down one side of the dress from the hip, exposing her left leg. An oriental design depicting an exotic and colorful bird standing atop a cherry blossom branch was embroidered across the right leg of the dress and the outfit was completed with brown tights, blue stilettos and long blue satin opera gloves.

"So the suits chose you to go over me, huh Nina?" The woman spoke, while she lightened up her straight smoking pipe. She then picked up an envelope that had been right next to her the whole time. "It was a good idea to participate on those Aikido competitions after all... Finally, I'll be able to get back at you, Nina."

* * *

><p><strong>In Russia...<strong>

"Dr. Geppetto Bosconovitch." A voice said the name of the old scientist, instictively causing him to turn around. Behind his glasses, Dr. Bosconovitch's eyes widened greatly.

"President Yeltsin and... the Chairman of the Government, Viktor Chernomyrdin..." The scientist stood and bowed his head to the two top authorities in Russia. "Your presence here in my lab... what an honor."

"I believe it's the first time we meet, right doctor?" Boris Yeltsin asked to the scientist, who nodded twice. "Well, with you being the top scientist ever since the time of the Soviet Union, it's only fair I know you personally."

"Again, it's an honor." Dr. Bosconovitch bowed his head once more. "Although, I'm sure you came here for more than just complimenting this old man's job... What can I be of use?"

"Well, indeed we need something." Chernomyrdin told him, after exchanging a glance with Yeltsin. The Chairman of the Government then handed an envelope to the scientist. "The Mishima Zaibatsu has sent an invitation to the King of the Iron Fist Tournament."

"Ohohoh! I used to know a thing or two about fighting back in the day, but nowadays I'm far too much past my prime." The researcher told them, while he handed back the envelope and the invitation to Chernomyrdin.

"It's not for you, doctor. The invitation was extended to the Russian Federation." Yeltsin clarified the situation. "The Mishima Zaibatsu, as I'm sure you know, has recently acquired a considerable number of military weapons from us. In return, they have asked the best fighter we could possibly produce to participate in the tournament."

"Produce... a fighter?" Bosconovitch asked, while he started to realize their intentions.

"Heihachi Mishima's renegade son, Kazuya Mishima, is expected to participate in the tournament. The Mishima Zaibatsu has told us that he will try to attempt a coup d'etat against his father, so they have asked us to deal with him." Chernomyrdin continued the explanation. "We have accepted their request, as we need to keep a good relationship with the Mishima Zaibatsu, so that they keep on buying our weapons."

"That's why we came here. To ensure the success of this deal, we need him." Yeltsin stated, causing Bosconovitch to suppress a sigh. "We need... Jack."

"Jack, huh?" Bosconovitch took his own glasses out of his face and started to clean them, while he spoke. "Jack is a super slaughtering military machine, a super killing robot. He's just brute force, with no finesse. He's not a fighter to put in a martial arts tournament."

"He's not going there with the intention to win the tournament. His only goal will be to eliminate Kazuya Mishima." Chernomyrdin stepped forward and raised his voice against the doctor. "Nothing but a robot can boast something even close to his violent attacks and stupendous power. He's perfect for the job!"

"Can we count on you to prepare Jack for the tournament, Dr. Bosconovitch?" President Yeltsin questioned the scientist, who this time wasn't able to suppress his sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>Back in Japan...<strong>

"Hmm..." An old man with a considerably long white beard sat in the middle of the gardens of the Mishima Estate, meditating. He wore a red and blue cap, a green robe, black belt, black and green trousers, and black shoes. His meditation was interrupted when he felt the arrival of two other people. "Ah... Leaving, young master?"

"Old Man Wang..." Heihachi greeted Wang, with Lee following him closely behind. "I'm going to make the announcement to the whole world about my tournament."

"Ah yes, the King of Iron Fist Tournament... I've been informed about it, earlier." Wang then joined both hands together and bowed to the younger man. "I'm very thankful for your invitation, young master."

"I'll need some really strong guys around to make the tournament interesting." Heihachi told him. "That's why I invited you."

"With the inclusion of Wang Jinrei and all the other participants to which we sent the invitations, we're still missing one person to fill up the brackets." Lee informed Heihachi, who simply laughed.

"Ahahahah! There's no need for it! I already invited the last fighter personally." Heihachi pointed towards a nearby cherry blossom tree, as he spoke. A bear was taking a nap under the shadow of the tree. "Kuma will be the last fighter."

"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea..." Wang tried to warn Heihachi, but he didn't listen to him.

"With that, all fighters have been invited. Now, it's time to invite the rest of the world." Heihachi told them, before he and Lee left the gardens.

* * *

><p><strong>A couple hours later...<strong>

"Hyaaa!" Kazuya yelled, while he threw a straight right punch to a candle, with the blow's strength putting out its flame. Taking a deep breath, Kazuya prepared for his next training exercise, until the sound of his TV caught his attention.

"We interrupt this program to bring you a last minute announcement. Let's move to our field reporter, Kenji Yamamoto, straight from the Mishima Zaibatsu headquarters." The journalist said, causing Kazuya's eyes to widen in surprise. "Yamamoto-san, any more news?"

"The press conference urgently called by the Mishima Zaibatsu is about to begin." The reporter revealed, just before Lee Chaolan and Heihachi Mishima both entered in the room. "Here he is, the owner of the Mishima Zaibatsu."

"Let's make this short and sweet... Three days from now, we'll give start to the King of the Iron Fist Tournament, the biggest fighting tournament ever hosted. We have sent invitations to the greatest fighters from all around the globe, in hopes of deciding who is the strongest man in the world." Heihachi announced, without even sitting down on his chair. "The winner of the tournament will win the equivalent to one million american dollars and will have the chance to face me in combat. If that person wins, I along with the all world will recognize that person as the best fighter of the present day."

"Mishima-san! Mishima-san!" All the reporters started to call for the man's attention, but Heihachi simply raised a finger.

"Three days from now, on this island, sixteen men and women will fight for the title of King of the Iron Fist." Heihachi reminded, before he turned around to leave. "Bring your best, all challengers!"

"Mishima-san! Mishima-san!" The reporters tried to follow Heihachi out of the room, but security was already doing its job to prevent them from following.

"A fighting tournament?! This is my chance..." Kazuya said to himself, before he dashed towards his mailbox. Surprisingly, no invitation had been sent to the son of the tournament's host. With a single, angry punch, Kazuya folded the mailbox in half. "That bastard! I guess I'll have to crash in uninvited..."

* * *

><p><strong>Tekkenpedia<strong>

For the first edition of the Tekkenpedia, we'll look into the ages and nationalities of the characters in Tekken 1:

- Anna Williams - 18 Years Old, Irish

- Armor King - Age Unknown, Nationality Unknown

- Ganryu - 32 Years Old, Japanese

- Heihachi Mishima - 52 Years Old, Japanese

- Jack - 3 Years Old, Created by the Russian Government

- Kazuya Mishima - 26 Years Old, Japanese

- King - 30 Years Old, Mexican

- Kuma - 9 Years Old (25-26 Years Old in terms of human), No Nationality

- Kunimitsu - Age Unknown, Japanese

- Lee Chaolan - 25 Years Old, Japanese

- Marshall Law - 25 Years Old, American

- Michelle Chang - 18 Years Old, American

- Nina Williams - 20 Years Old, Irish

- Paul Phoenix - 25 Years Old, American

- P. Jack - Age Unknown, Created by the Russian Government

- Wang Jinrei - 82 Years Old, Chinese

- Yoshimitsu - Age Unknown, Japanese


End file.
